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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29457768">Sangria</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freaky123/pseuds/Freaky123'>Freaky123</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>cirque du freak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Mika finally has a good time, Pure Unadulterated Fluff, alcohol makes everyone talk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:41:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>537</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29457768</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freaky123/pseuds/Freaky123</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Do Mika, Kurda, and alcohol mix?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mika/Kurda - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sangria</h2></a>
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    <p>Kurda could tell he was drunk. There was a slight tingling sensation in his fingers, his head rang, and everything was slightly off kilter. Still, he was determined to finish his drink in front of him. It was a Sex on the Beach- something new- and it tasted absolutely delectable. </p><p>Mika, on the other hand, finished his sixth Adios Motherfucker. Kurda pitied him for the hangover he would have in the morning, but for now it was interesting to see him completely inebriated out of his mind. He was the type of drunk who had absolutely no control over himself and his emotions. </p><p>“Kurda,” Mika slurred. His voice was barely audible above the shitty country music playing in the bar. It was nearly two in the morning, and the bartenders had yelled out last call ten minutes ago. </p><p>“Yes?” He asked. Mika smiled drunkenly. </p><p>“Dance with me?” </p><p>It was more of a request than a demand, which threw Kurda off. Why was he asking him to dance? Was there some sort of bet between Arrow and Mika? Kurda knew there had to be- sober Mika couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him, and would have revolted at the thought of him and Kurda dancing. </p><p>For some reason, though, Kurda decided to humor the black haired prince. </p><p>“Sure,” he said not too soberly himself, “when the next slow song comes on.” Mika smiled goofily. </p><p>“Good.” A pause as a request for Sangria came on. “I’ve been waiting for a long time to ask you to dance, blondie.” </p><p>Kurda blinked in surprise as the song started. What? </p><p>Mika grabbed his hand and practically dragged the surprised general off his tattered barstool. </p><p>“We’re missing it!” He said. Kurda chuckled. </p><p>“No we’re not,” he said. Mika smiled and slid his hands as smoothly as he could onto the general’s lean hips. Kurda places his around the taller man’s neck, and was surprised as how soft his hair felt. </p><p>“Your lips taste like sangria,” Mika murmured with the song as they swayed to the beat. Another pause. “Do your lips taste like sangria?” Kurda chuckled. </p><p>“I don’t think so.” </p><p>“Can I make sure?” </p><p>Kurda didn’t know what to say to that. </p><p>“...sure?” Mika awkwardly leaned down and captured Kurda’s mouth into a kiss. </p><p>“Not sangria,” he murmured, “but equally delicious.” Kurda felt himself become dizzy. </p><p>“I need to sit down,” he managed. Mika pouted. “I’m serious- I feel sick with the dancing.” </p><p>“Then we can just stand here,” Mika said, “no dancing at all. I just want you in my arms, Smahlt.” </p><p>The two stopped dancing, and time<br/>Stopped. The only thing that marked the passing of time was Mika occasionally singing along to the song, whispering it into Kurda’s ear- along with sweet nothings in French. </p><p>“We’re done,” Mika announced once the song was over. </p><p>Kurda didn’t want to be done, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. He loved the feeling of hearing Mika’s steady heartbeat through his shirt and smelling his Old Spice cologne. </p><p>“Promise me something,” Kurda said as he laced his hands with Mika’s.  </p><p>“Anything, mon ange,” Mika murmured against Kurda’s neck. </p><p>“We’ll dance more when we’re both sober.” Mika chuckled. </p><p>“Deal.”</p>
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